Chapter 4 #2
His emotions were swimming from one extreme to another. For a hot second, he wanted to take back his offer. Just bring her to the Mangree Motel and arrange to get her, and her cats, out of Fallport to start over somewhere else.
She spoke before he could renege on his offer.
“If it’s really okay, if you wouldn’t mind and you aren’t just being nice, or offering something you don’t mean, I’ll go with you tonight.”
Pleasure raced through Whip’s veins. Even though he’d been having second thoughts a moment ago, he couldn’t deny how pleased he was that she’d chosen him.
He nodded and put the truck in drive and pulled out of the parking lot. He wasn’t going to waste time, now that she’d said yes. He needed her in his space.
His life had changed in a heartbeat, and despite his reservations, instead of feeling panicky about it, Whip felt an anticipation he hadn’t felt in a very long time.
The drive to his small house didn’t take long. Fallport wasn’t that large of a town, and his house, while on the outskirts, wasn’t in the boonies.
After the garage door opened, he pulled inside and shut it behind him. Without a word, he got out and opened the back door. He grabbed her suitcase while she hopped out and turned to pick up the cat carrier.
Whip unlocked the garage door that led into his house and quickly deactivated the alarm system.
When he shut the door behind Angel, satisfaction filled him.
She was here. In his home. He felt a little like a spider, and she was the fly.
She was in his domain now, his lair, and he fucking liked her there.
“Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll be bunking down.
That’s your bathroom; I’ve got one inside my room, which is there.
” He indicated the main bedroom with his head as they passed by.
His door was open, his bed unmade from when he’d gotten out of it nearly twenty-four hours ago, at this point.
There were dirty clothes in a heap near the closet, but otherwise the room was pretty bare-bones.
He didn’t decorate. Had no throw pillows or pictures on the walls. He’d never really cared, but now he wondered if the place was too…plain. Austere. Cold.
“Here,” he said, a little more gruffly than he intended, as he opened the door to the second bedroom. It was weird that he even had a guest room, since it wasn’t as if he ever had guests. You had to have friends or family to have guests, and he had neither.
“It’s great, thank you,” Angel said softly.
Just then, Luna walked down the hall, meowing loudly, demanding the treat Whip always gave her when he arrived home. Didn’t matter if it was three-thirty in the morning, as it was now, or two in the afternoon.
“Oh, she’s…” Angel’s voice trailed off as Whip leaned over and picked up the cat.
“Ugly as fuck,” he said with a chuckle. The cat had been through hell before Whip found her. Had several litters of kittens, if the state of her droopy teats was any indication. She had only one eye, and both ears had been mangled in cat fights sometime in her past.
Luna immediately began to purr and nudged her head against Whip’s chin.
He chuckled and caressed her throat as he held her close.
“Go ahead and get settled. We can talk in the morning.” Then he turned away from Angel…
before he did what he really wanted…push her inside the room, onto the bed, strip her naked, and dive between her legs to eat her out as if his life depended on it.
Trying to turn off the lustful thoughts, Whip walked into the kitchen and went straight to the treat jar on the counter. Luna’s purring increased.
Whip took off the lid and reached inside the jar. He held out a treat to Luna, and she about took off his fingertips when she aggressively snatched it from him.
Chuckling, Whip held her as she munched on the small bite, then reached into the jar for another. Simba and Charlie both heard the sound of the lid coming off the jar and had run into the kitchen to get their share too.
Simba, a tabby, had been starving and on the verge of death when Whip took him in. Even though he’d been terrified and mostly feral, the lure of the can of cat food Whip had put down was too much to resist.
Whip had always had a way with cats. He didn’t know why, didn’t really care.
But even he was amazed that Simba had allowed him to pick him up and put him in a carrier.
He took to being an inside cat as easily as if he’d been born to it.
And maybe he was. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that he’d been a house cat at some point.
Before some asshole decided having a pet was too much of a hassle.
Charlie was old. His black and gray hair was falling out in patches. He had only half a tail and slept most of his days away. He, too, had been a stray before Whip gave him a home. He wouldn’t have lasted much longer on the streets. Not at his age.
A noise had Whip glancing up, and he saw Angel standing at the end of his kitchen with a small smile on her face.
“That’s Simba, and that’s Charlie,” Whip said. “As far as I can tell, Charlie’s a domestic longhair, and Simba is a Bombay. Vet thinks Luna’s an American shorthair. Not that I give a fuck what breed they are, just that they’re safe and healthy.”
“They’re adorable.”
Whip shrugged. “They’re assholes, but aren’t all cats?”
She smiled wider at that. “Is it okay if I let Mittens and Kevin out? Or should I keep them in my room for a while and let everyone get used to each other?”
“Let ’em out. My crew is pretty laid-back. As long as they don’t attack, they’ll be fine.”
Angel disappeared down the hallway and returned a moment later with the cat carrier. It felt good that she trusted him with her babies. She opened the door, and Mittens was the first to poke her head out.
Charlie sauntered over to the newcomer, sniffed her, then wandered off.
Kevin didn’t slink out of the carrier, he came out like a shot, diving under the couch as if his life depended on it.
“He’ll come out when he’s more comfortable. Are you hungry?” Whip asked.
Angel bit her lip, then looked down at the watch on her wrist. “It’s late.”
“So? Are you hungry or not?”
“Yeah. I…I didn’t have dinner.”
“Why not?”
She sighed. “You aren’t going to like the answer.”
Whip stiffened.
“Dwayne decided I was getting too fat. Said I had to lose weight and stop eating so much.”
She was right. Whip didn’t like that fucking explanation in the least. “Fuck him. You want eggs? Grilled cheese sandwich? Hamburger?”
“Crackers or something would be fine.”
Whip took a deep breath and slowly leaned over and put Luna on the floor. She went over to where Mittens still sat by the carrier, greeting her with a sniff. But Whip’s attention was on Angel, not the cats. They’d be fine. He had no doubt whatsoever of that.
“You’re not getting fucking crackers if you’re hungry. You need fuel. Protein. I’ve got just about everything. What do you want, Angel?”
“Um…an omelet sounds really good.”
“Great. What do you like in it?”
“Everything.”
“Everything?” he asked, raising a brow.
She nodded. “I can make it.”
“I’m sure you can. But so can I. What’s everything, Angel?”
“I’m not picky. Anything you have. Ham, cheese, bacon, peppers, tomatoes, jalapenos…literally whatever.”
Whip smiled. “Fuck me. That’s awesome. That’s how I like my omelets too. Sit. If you think Mittens would like a treat, help yourself. But warning, they’re addicting and will turn your perfectly well-mannered cats into treat whores.”
She giggled, and the sound went through Whip like a freight train.
Had he ever felt like this? So…carefree?
No. Not even close. It was after three in the morning and he should be exhausted.
Should be irritated he wasn’t already in bed.
But instead, he was happily getting a frying pan out of his cabinet and practically giddy about making a fucking omelet for a woman he’d met a few hours ago.
He was too rough around the edges. Too old and set in his ways. He didn’t give a shit about anyone’s opinion of him, and he did what he wanted, when he wanted.
But somehow, he had a feeling the woman reaching for the jar of cat treats was going to shift his world on its axis. Had already changed him.
He couldn’t get used to it though. Couldn’t get used to her.
She wasn’t here permanently. Only until he could deal with her fucking husband.
She’d be gone the moment the threat was eliminated.
Because why would she stay? He’d never hurt her, true, but he was an asshole all the same.
And Angel had dealt with one asshole for long enough. She deserved better.
With that thought in mind, Whip did his best to turn his attention to the eggs.
But no matter how hard he tried to focus on nothing but the omelet he was making, a part of him remained hyperaware of every minute detail about his houseguest. Where she was sitting. What she was doing. The pleased sounds she made as she gave Mittens the cat crack treats.
He was well and truly fucked.
Though, honestly, he wouldn’t change anything about how tonight had gone.
For a moment, just one tiny little moment, he could pretend he wasn’t the town asshole. That old ladies didn’t cross the street so they wouldn’t have to get too close to him when he walked by. That he wasn’t the guy everyone loved to hate.
He was simply Whip Johansen, making a meal for his woman.
Except there was nothing simple about him, and Angel wasn’t his woman.
Fuck.